


Come home to me

by hoppnhorn



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Reunions, Fluff, I have a lot of feelings, Reunions, lots of emotions okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Arya has waited for Jon to return for weeks, but she gets more than she ever imagined when he comes home.





	Come home to me

**Author's Note:**

> Just another reunion snippet. I took a more platonic approach with this version of a Gendrya reunion after watching season 3 again. Arya and Gendry were friends and -more importantly- young when they were separated; after being apart for years, I can only imagine they'd be those same kids the moment they see each other again. They were friends first. I wanted to honor that a little with a sweet scene. Thanks for reading!

She’d waited weeks for the arrival of her brother. For days she’d dreamt of his face, wishing that time would quicken its pace just for her. Just once, she wanted to feel the relief of reaching her family in time. She’d missed Robb by less than a day and it had tormented her for years. She’d been on the other side of the world when Rickon had died. With Bran safe, Arya had one last brother to find; and she was beside herself to see him alive.

Just once, she needed the promise of happiness fulfilled.

When his party appeared on the horizon, it’d taken all of the strength in her body to keep from crying aloud in front of all the bannerman on the walls of Winterfell. Her hands had shaken with elation as she’d made her way to Sansa’s chambers and told her sister he was coming. Jon was home.

Standing in the keep, Arya chewed her cheek until she tasted blood. The trained composure of the faceless man she’d once been had evaporated, making way for the nervous excitement of a girl. Arya had thought she’d lost that girl years ago; she thought she’d been beaten down until nothing remained except a hard shell. An assassin. A murderer. But one word from Hot Pie and she’d gone running back to Winterfell, abandoning her mission to kill the Queen for the small hope of seeing Jon again.

The King in the North.

Arya grinned, her heart speeding with joy as she realized how proud she was of him. Raised as a bastard, now a King.

The group arrived, horses hissing white breath into the air as they filled the courtyard. Arya recalled the last time she’d awaited a King in this same courtyard and a chill rolled down her spine. Time had been cruel to their family. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. This was a time of joy. The past would not cloud her happiness. Not today.

When he appeared, tears filled her eyes. Jon was bigger. His face was older, his body was stronger and his beard made him look so grown-up she couldn’t help but smile. Their eyes met and she swore her knees were going to buckle under her weight.

Jon dismounted and she was running. Wind in her hair, tears on her cheeks, she let out a single sob before she was leaping into his open arms.

“Arya.” He said her name into her hair, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Arya couldn’t manage a reply. She couldn’t manage to exhale without her whole body heaving in sobs. They weren’t the tears of a sister, or a Lady, but the tears of a girl. A little girl, who’d finally found home. She clung to Jon for so long, and so hard, that her arms began to ache. Taking a deep breath, Arya released him and looked up into his face.

“I missed you too, big brother.” She whispered. When she stepped away, she fought for composure. Arya called on her self-control and watched Sansa embrace Jon. There was a warmth there, between her siblings, that she’d never seen before. Sansa was happier to see him than she’d ever been and Arya struggled to keep tearing up all over again. They were together again. Her family was as whole as it would ever be. The Starks of Winterfell were home. As she looked away, swiping tears from her eyes, she studied the faces surrounding them.

So many had returned with Jon, many of them foreign with their dark hair and skin. Arya studied the faces of each man until she landed on a familiar face that took the breath from her lungs.

Frozen, she stared at him, unable to think or move. She just stared, sure that her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be a trick; there was no other explanation. But when his cheeks colored and his eyes turned to the ground, she knew it was _him_. He wasn’t an illusion of a wishful thinking or a ghost from younger days. The man shuffling his feet in the snow had the face of a boy she knew. A boy she’d lost. A friend.

“Gendry.” She breathed his name and he found her eyes again, his mouth open in a long exhale. Arya shot forward, reaching for him and slamming into his chest before he could say a word.

Unlike Jon, she didn’t sob against Gendry. She didn’t weep with joy or shake in his arms. Arya pressed her face to his chest and simply held onto him. Held on like she had in nightmares, clawing at him while he was taken away.

Her dearest of friends was alive. Not just alive but solid and warm against her body, squeezing her back as she buried her nose in his furs. She’d found him and he’d found her. He smelled like leather and horse and Gendry. Living, breathing Gendry.

“It’s good to see you, Arry.” He whispered into her ear. She chuckled and released him, staring up at his bright blue eyes. She used to lie awake at night and try to recall the faces of her father, her mother, Robb, Rickon, and the countless others she’d lost. Some had faded, and others were gone altogether, but Gendry’s face had always remained anchored.

“You’re here.” Arya said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“That makes the two of us.” Gendry replied, giving her one of his smiles; the smile that put wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. Shooting up onto her toes, she hugged him around the neck and he wrapped his arms about her waist.

“You’re still short.” He grunted into her neck. “But you weigh a ton.” She let out a bubbly laugh, unafraid of anyone hearing. Gendry was alive to tease her; that was all that mattered. Arya was never letting her best friend go again.

 


End file.
